


Siblings

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Love and Honor [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alliance, Gilneas, Kul Tiran - Freeform, Kul Tiras, Worgen, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, druid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Tannette and Ryland Warden have a serious discussion before she heads off to Stormsong Valley as a forward scout for the Alliance.
Series: Love and Honor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168667
Kudos: 4





	Siblings

Tannette watched the sun rise from where she perched on the windowsill of her room at the inn. The sky began to fade from midnight blue to the pastel pinks and golds of dawn as she meditated, keeping her eyes half open as she concentrated on breathing and calmed her mind. Fluffy clouds scudded across the sky towards the distant mountains, the peaks beginning to be highlighted by the early light. She heaved a sigh and rose to stretch, closing the window firmly behind her, ignoring the chill that had crept into the room during her long vigil. Bleary eyed and yawning, she began collecting the toiletries she had pulled from her bags the night before to wash away the fear sweat that had since dried on her skin after waking from one of the nightmares that had plagued her since the War of Thorns. The dream before it had been pleasant enough, though she couldn't recall the details. But the nightmare had made her thrash awake, her body not quite cooperating with her as she fumbled out of bed and to the window to desperately gasp for air in a room that suddenly felt too hot and close. She had decided to stay there and meditate while she worked on banishing the memories that threatened to hold her prisoner in her own mind, the slightly damp and cool air from the harbor ruffling her hair. The last memory she drew close to herself was the sight of a woman with curly hair in the same golden color as the dawn smiling sadly as she pushed her towards a portal, knowing they would never see one another again in this life.

"Go, Tannette," her voice whispered in the back of her mind. "They need you. I am needed here." Blinking back tears, Tannette grimly poured water from a waiting pitcher into a basin and splashed her face. It had only been a few weeks since Syralynn's death, and yet it felt as if her memory was slipping away little by little with every passing day. She grimaced and began to wash, avoiding looking into the mirror to see the dark circles under her eyes that revealed she had suffered through another sleepless night. She instead focused on the simple task of merely existing and trying to find a spot of normalcy in a world that had gone to hell once again. Focusing on the here and now, like the roughness of the washcloth on her skin, the slightly floral scent of the soap, and the coolness of the water helped push away the last vestiges of emotions, leaving her feeling refreshed in more than one way. She dried her face, grabbing clothes she had carelessly torn from her bag earlier and began to dress, debating all the while on wearing her armor to the meeting of scouts at the harbormaster's office or not in the next few hours. After trying in vain to smooth the wrinkles out of her shirt, and finally threw up her hands and stalked to her armor, bringing a few lit candles with her.

Her mail armor was neatly racked on a stand made just for that in the corner, her massive scythe leaning against the wall next to it. The mottled brown and grey scale mail was in excellent repair, for all it was an older set. She made a note to seek out new padding made from a better quality pelt than the ones that currently lined her armor, noting that they were starting to look a bit threadbare from use. The large pauldrons that dominated the set glowed with a slight violet hue as the sun's rays began to fall upon them, an odd bit of magic she had puzzled over many times after being gifted the set by her aunt for her birthday. For all the times she had been behind enemy lines, or hiding in the dark, the purple mist had never given away her position. The scythe, another gift from her aunt, gleamed under a fresh coat of oil. The violet crystal and steel weapon stood taller than Tannette herself, but was lightweight and sharp enough to split a hair. Nothing seemed to dull its keen edges, not even near constant battle like the one on Darkshore. Her weapons belt with its grappling hook, small wildfire bombs, and tiny crossbow with poisoned darts were stashed safely in her pack where they wouldn't raise any eyebrows. Though she had inspected her gear on the ship the day before, she decided it wouldn't hurt to check everything again, and began running her hands over each piece of equipment, looking for any wear and tear she may have missed. She had only started checking the levels of poisoned darts for her crossbow when a polite rap at her door brought her out of her concentration with a start. She debated on ignoring it until another tap, more insistent this time, was followed by a familiar cheerful voice booming,

"Open up, sister dearest. It's your darling brother, and I've come bearing breakfast!" She quickly dropped her darts back into their case, suppressing a groan as she crossed the room to open the door, admitting a disgustingly and cheerfully awake Ryland bearing a massive platter on one arm. "Ah, there you are! Have time for a spot of breakfast with your dear old brother before you go gallivanting off into the wilderness like the savage you are this afternoon?" She sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping aside to allow him in. The scent of bacon, eggs, and fresh bread accompanied the man as he made his way into the room. She noted he was wearing his working gear, a set of grey, brown, and black leather armor with dull metal fastenings and sole less boots made for silent movement. 

"As if you haven't done the same in the past, you heathen," she retorted, "You had better have at least brought some good strong tea if you're going to show up this early." He chuckled and shoved a paper bag into her hands as he passed her and headed towards the small table in the corner to set down his tray. She opened the bag, revealing several large chunks of sweet potato bread, a favorite from her childhood. Her suspicion rose at the sight of the bread, making her glare at him as he began divvying up the food he had brought into two portions. When she saw the amount of food he had brought, she winced, knowing it would be difficult for her to stomach even a fraction of it after the nightmares. They always left her feeling unsettled and nauseated the morning after.

"Alright, Ryland, I wasn't born yesterday." She waved the bag of bread, scowling. "You're trying to bribe me and I'd like to know why."

"I would never," he scoffed, pouring tea from a small pot into two thick ceramic mugs. Though his scarred countenance was bland, she knew he was trying to find the words to refute her accusation. There's no smooth talking Alexi to save you now, she thought resentfully towards him. When she shut the door with a little more force than necessary, he winced and sighed, gesturing for her to join him. "That transparent, am I?"

"You used to bring me sweet potato bread when I was a child and you wanted something." She grabbed one of the two chairs in the room and dragged it over, upending the bag so the bread tumbled onto the platter between the two plates of food he had fixed for them. "Whether it was taking the flocks out so you could sneak away and see Alexi, or doing your chores so you could run off and play soldier, you always brought me a loaf of this bread every time to sweeten the deal." She sat and ripped one of the offending pieces of bread in half, taking a bite. He grinned at her, holding up both hands in surrender, his emerald eyes twinkling. With every passing year he began to look more and more like their father, she thought, though the wicked charm tucked in the corners of his mouth and eyes were all his own.

"You caught me, sister, though you cannot fault me from adhering to this delightful tradition of ours." He snagged a few pieces of bacon from his plate and bit into them, watching her pick at her food. When she did no more than nibble on her portion, he kicked her gently in the shin under the table, making her jump. "Promulous was right. You aren't taking care of yourself properly."

"Promulous is a thousands of years old meddling busybody who should have kept himself and his opinions on the Vindicaar." She snapped, flushing with embarrassment and no small amount of anger. He folded his arms across his chest, watching her as she toyed with her piece of bread until it was reduced to crumbs. He transferred his gaze to her hands and stared at them pointedly until she dropped the remaining crumbs and wiped them on her breeches. "What do you want me to say, Ryland? That I'm thriving? Happy? Healthy? All of that would be a lie and we both know it."

"That thousands of years old meddling busybody is a Lightforged priest who has more experience dealing with after battle trauma than anyone else we know, which is why we asked him to take a look in on you in the first place during your recovery, Tannette." Ryland said quietly as he added a small amount of honey to his tea. The clanking of the spoon against the sides of the mug as he stirred seemed unnaturally loud after his gentle rebuke. "He cleared you for duty only because you reassured him, and us, that you would continue taking care of yourself. That means eating and drinking to put on the weight you lose during your time on Darkshore, and sleeping enough every night." He tapped a scarred finger under one of his eyes, and gave her a sad smile. "I can see from your face that you haven't been doing much of the latter, and by your response to breakfast this morning that you're also stinting on the former. If it were up to me, I'd pull you from this mission and toss you back with the healers."

"You try eating a lot when you just throw it back up later. And you'd do me no favors by putting me back with the healers." She grumbled, savagely poking a fried egg with her fork. She watched the yolk ooze out and soak into the crumbs of bread, swirling the two together into a sloppy mess on the plate. Ryland sighed and slapped her hand lightly with the back of his spoon, making her drop the fork.

"Stop that. If you aren't going to eat it, at least don't play with it like a petulant child. Though I warn you, there's a whole pitcher of goat's milk in the kitchen of this place. If you don't eat your breakfast like a good girl, I'll tell that lovely bustling bundle of energy of a woman downstairs that you love goat's milk with the passion of a sailor for a siren and cannot start your day without at least two whole mugs of it." Tannette gave her brother a horrified look. He merely raised one gingery eyebrow at her, grinning wickedly.

"You wouldn't," she stammered, blanching. "You know, I despise milk, and especially goat's milk. It's so... Disgusting."

"I would," he admitted cheerfully, pointing towards her rapidly cooling breakfast. "I hear this stuff tastes better warm than cold, so eat up before I am forced to go downstairs and fetch your real breakfast of disgusting goat milk." Still glaring at him, she resentfully dug into the food, forcing herself to chew and swallow past the lump in her throat. Ryland wolfed down his own breakfast, watching her benevolently the whole time. She was surprised to see that she actually managed to eat most of what was on her plate without issue. The sat in companionable silence as they are until only the mess of crumbs and yolks remained congealing on her plate. Ryland topped off their mugs of tea and sat back, his face wreathed with pleasure. Tannette studied him in the morning light that poured through the window and was surprised to see several grey hairs threaded through the coppery locks at his temples. She took a sip of her tea to hide her reaction, but reminded herself that he was nearly a decade older than her and had already lived a full life. SI:7 was undoubtedly keeping him and Alexi hopping.

"So," he said, breaking the silence. "We need to talk about how you are going to handle this assignment." She opened her mouth to respond, but was silenced by a careless wave of his hand. "No, I don't want to hear that you're fine, because I don't appreciate it when you lie to me. You aren't any good at it, anyhow. That's my line of work, not yours."

"I wasn't going to lie, truly." She fiddled with the mug of tea, then sighed heavily. It would be best to give him the unvarnished truth. "I'm going to do what I did back on the Broken Isles, Ryland. I am going to throw myself so completely into my work that there isn't room for anything else." He nodded, sipping his tea. She grimaced and did the same before continuing. "Promulous was right, though I am loathe to admit it. It is going to take a lot of time for me to recover from what happened, though I promise you that I am doing my best to heal. These things take time. Sitting around, wallowing in self pity and resentment isn't going to do me any good. I need to be out there making a difference."

"There are Horde forces in Stormsong Valley, Tannette, among other threats." Ryland's voice was firm, but quiet. "The chances of you seeing battle are high. Sylvanas is not going sit idly and wait for us to come to her. How will you handle it if you come face to face with the enemy when they wear the guise of a Horde soldier?"

"I... I don't know," she admitted, dropping her hands into her lap. She rubbed her foot against the back of one of her ankles, feeling the knobby scars from where she had been hamstrung during the battle on Darkshore. It was a testament to the healers and their powers that she was even able to walk again after the severity of her injuries. Ryland's face was pure compassion, making it difficult for her to meet his eyes. "There are times I get so angry I can't even think. Other times, I feel completely... Helpless." She looked up at him, swallowing hard. "The anger wins out more than the helplessness."

"There's already been an attack on Brenndam," Ryland's voice was steel, he face stony. "You'll undoubtedly hear about it from Master Davenport, considering his business was destroyed." Tannette swallowed hard, nodding. If the Horde had already made an advance on the citizens of Kul Tiras, there was no doubt that she would face them once again in combat. She thought of her homeland, blighted and scarred by the Foresaken onslaught in an attempt to take Gilneas for access to the harbor. Her vision burned as she pictured Teldrassil in flames, coughing once into the crook of her elbow to hide her reaction. Ryland reached out and cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"I'll deal with it as best as possible, Ryland." She whispered, leaning into his hand. Closing her eyes, she sniffed, composing herself. "With any luck, we'll just be reporting Horde troop movements, and not engaging them in combat. If one were to attack us, I don't know... I don't know how I would handle it. I don't think I'd be able to stop."

"If that happens, you undoubtedly would give way to the more... Feral... Side of your nature." He replied quietly, tracing a finger along the edge of an old scar that marred his bicep to add emphasis to his words. The scar was an old one, one of the oldest on his body, she knew. The bite mark had healed sloppily, leaving puffed and raised ridges of flesh along his muscled arm. Even years later, it was still angry and red from where the feral worgen that had attacked them both had nearly killed him. Most of the scars on his face and torso were from that attack. She looked down at her left wrist, where a similar, less violent looking scar marred her own skin. She, too, traced a finger over it, nodding as she did so. Ryland sighed, taking her hand in his. "Tannette, Promulous told us you were only able to release your worgen form a week ago, the day before he cleared you for duty. That's highly unlike you. You've had the most control over your worgen form out of all of us in the past." He hesitated, shaking his head. "If maintaining control is going to be an issue, well. You're going to have to tell Master Davenport about being a worgen. It wouldn't do to have him think you're the enemy if you slip into it while you're together."

"I shouldn't have to tell Master Davenport anything, you oaf!" She snapped, yanking her hand out of his and clenching her fists in her lap. She was secretly relieved to have a new topic to discuss, though she suspected Ryland knew when he brought it up. "Of all the heinous ideas the higher ups have had, this one borders on the imbecilic. What were they thinking, saddling the scouts with guides? They should be with the regular army, not with the ones used to working independently!"

"They were thinking that this country has enough threats from without that they don't need more to worry about from within," he said mildly, scratching lightly under his eye patch. "Dear sister, I know you. If some local bumpkin mouths off to you, you'd rip their face clean off." He laughed at her affronted look and reached over to pat her head like a child. She jerked her head away, reaching up to fix her hair. "Tannette, darling, I know it is difficult for you to accept help, but Master Davenport is a good man, and he has a need for work right now, same as you. Consider it charity of sorts. Besides, he's an expert navigator, a handy man to have in a brawl, knows Stormsong Valley better than the back of his hand, and is a druid to boot. Something they call a Thornspeaker here. Not to mention, he has all sorts of connections and even family up near Brennadam that have offered to allow you to use their farm as a home base while you scout your area of operation in the Valley." She sat back and frowned at the last part, curious. Scouts typically did not stay in civilian quarters, but made due camping rough. Ryland caught her look and shrugged. "His adopted fathers are a shaman and a druid, respectively. They're out and about doing work for the Speaker. Theirs is a higher calling, and the higher ups have signed off on it. You won't be the only one kipping in their barn from time to time, not while the Alliance is here helping clean up the messes present in this country."

Tannette nodded somberly, reaching for the azerite pendant that hung from a leather throng around her neck. She had not seen the Wound in Silithus herself, but had heard tales of it from Alexi. The massive sword the titan lord of the Burning Legion had plunged into the world still remained a threat. There were rumors of cracks and breaks throughout the world where azerite was seeping through. Magni Bronzebeard, in his capacity as the Speaker for Azeroth, had mad it clear that the world needed help. It was not surprising to her to hear that even the most far flung of shaman and druids had answered the Speaker's call. She rubbed a thumb over the small shard of the world's blood she wore as a reminder that healing Azeroth was the highest priority, and took comfort in the small boost of power she felt as soon as her hand made contact with it. More powerful artifacts had reportedly been given to others, but she was content with the small pendant, which had been a gift from Promulous.

"So long as it isn't a permanent thing, or because of my injuries," she replied, dropping the pendant. "I would hate to be seen as getting special treatment or anything."

"Far from that! You'll be out and about more often than you are staying put, but you already know that. There's whispers of something odd going on with House Stormsong." Ryland replied cheerfully, stacking their used plates and mugs onto the tray. He stood, nodding towards her gear as he picked up the tray. "Its undoubtedly a load of fluff, but you never know. You'll want to bring all of that with you, by the way. You'll be headed out once you receive your briefing. Pick up the feathered menace and the rest of your gear on your way out of town. Alexi has a few things he wants to add to your inventory before you head out. He said he'd bring them to the meeting."

"Fair enough." She stood and stretched, then stood on her tiptoes to giver her brother a kiss on the cheek. She hesitated, then asked pleadingly, "Ryland, be honest. You truly didn't pick Master Davenport for me based on his looks, did you?"

The raucous laugh he gave her as he left the room did nothing to ease her suspicions.

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: I am taking creative license with the timeline of events in World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth. I understand they do not line up exactly with the campaign in the game.


End file.
